


Counting the Ways to Where You Are

by AliceMaravilhas



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, F/M, Kinky, Male-Female Friendship, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMaravilhas/pseuds/AliceMaravilhas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were a dreamer. A drifter. Content to just be. Until a certain someone steps into your dreams and makes them a reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Day 459. You'd been keeping track of the days since you left home. Each day was marked with a tic on a piece of paper as soon as you woke up for the day. Then the paper would disappear into your pocket as you went about your business at the camp.

Usually you were assigned some silly little task, fit only for a useless woman. Gathering what you could find from the forest. Could be anything from kindling to dandelions. Most of the time you didn't mind as it allowed you to be semi-alone. You always stayed within sight of the camp, though. Who knew what was out there?

Even though you disliked most of the people, they gave you a certain feeling of safety, security. They watched your back and you watched theirs. They were people you would never have lowered yourself to befriend in the pre-apocalyptic world. It's not that they were bad people, you just weren't a good fit. They were rowdy and loud, often making comments that made you cringe.

You weren't one to shy away from dark or even crude humor, but they liked to hurt and you didn't like that. Okay, maybe they were bad people. But they were your people. And they kept you from having to survive on your own.

Before all this you'd had no real survival skills. You came into this world not knowing how to shoot a gun or how to throw a knife. You didn't know how to skin a rabbit or even how to properly climb a tree. Before this you'd been nothing more than a cashier in a grocery store, content to live your life in dreams and to fade away. But things got too real too fast and you learned that you were smart. And a survivor. You realized that you were a fast learner and that your moral compass wasn't exactly white. But that was okay, because you were alive.

You were alive and everyone you knew before was dead. You didn't think about your family, your friends. You'd never felt particularly attached to anyone before. You still didn't really. You were alive before, but you were only existing. One day you knew you'd find your purpose, your reason for living. Only, it came in the form of the end of the world.

To be perfectly honest, you found life far more thrilling nowadays, even with the dead roaming the land, ready to bite, to kill, to maim you. There was always something new to learn, some untouched area to be explored. Though you were assigned stupid tasks, it didn't bother you much, because you didn't have to deal with people much and in return you'd been taught how to use a sword.

A motherfucking sword. It was straight out of a fantasy novel. Hilarious, yet exhilarating at the same time. You'd found it in the local gaming store in a display case behind the counter. Sharpened and everything. 

It hadn't taken long for you to have your first kill. A short, fat, balding Roamer whose ankle bent at a ridiculous angle. He shuffled toward you, gurgling, with outstretched arms. It'd taken two swings before you'd been able to take him down. But you did it. It was the proudest moment of your life. 

Now, killing Roamers was old hat and nearly nothing. Now they were more of a nuisance than a threat. More like a gopher in a garden. Especially since the camp had grown from ten people to twenty practically overnight.

No, the real threat were people. The Saviors. You shivered as you thought about them and their leader Negan. You'd never seen a Savior in person, never had seen this Negan, but you'd heard stories from Thomas and Frank. It wasn't pretty. That's why camp moved so much. You all were always running from the Saviors. Thankfully you'd never had a run in with them yourself.

That morning had been no different from any others. You'd awoken, rather abruptly, to Kevin kicking your side as he walked by. It was nearly impossible to not get trampled on with everyone sleeping in such tight quarters. You'd ticked another day on the paper and strapped your sword to your side before rolling up your sleeping bag into a neat little bundle. After you'd taken care of business and stuffed the leftover rabbit in your mouth, you decided to head over to Josh, the leader of the camp, and see what he needed done for the day.

Josh had stood on the far end of camp, arms crossed, waiting for you. “You're late.”

The temptation to roll your eyes was great, but you managed to stave if off, instead shrugging neutrally at him.“Sorry. What do you need?”

He handed you a bucket. “Go find some food. Berries. Fruits. What the fuck ever. Just fucking go.”

“Sure,” you said, not in the mood for another argument with Josh. You had tried to tell him that berries and foliage were slim pickings in this part of Virginia, but he didn't want to listen to you. You were only a woman after all and women should be seen and not heard.

Not to mention Josh tended to creep you out more than you cared to admit. He was...handsy and just not your type, though he loved to leer at you. And every other pair of boobs in the camp. Not that there were many. So far you'd managed to avoid having to fuck him, though you were sure every other woman in the camp had either fucked him willingly or not so willingly. You had no clue why he hadn't tried anything on you, but you were relieved all the same. You'd never had to defend yourself against a person before and you weren't sure if you could. Stabbing a Roamer was much different than stabbing a person. The thought sent chills curling up your spine.

So you walked to the edge of the treeline, rolling your eyes as you swung the bucket back and forth humming a silly song. As always, you kept the camp in sight, just in case. You could handle a few Roamers on your own, but anything more than three and you would be up a river of excrement without a propelling device. The bucket clanged as you tossed it on the ground and you popped your neck. Squatting down, you began to remove the brush in search of food.

Over the next few hours you collected some mulberries, dandelions and some wild strawberries. Not nearly enough to fill the bucket, but enough to add as sides to the evening meal. You just hoped it wouldn't be spam again. Life would just be amazing if you didn't have to ever eat canned meat again.

As usual everyone left you alone, and you were grateful. You'd never been good at small talk or shooting the shit. Instead you preferred to live you life on the sidelines, casually observing others. 

Around midday your back began to ache, so you decided it was as good a time as any for a break. Especially since your shirt and your pants were damp and sticking to your skin. Some days you just hated Virginia. The summers were too fucking hot and the winters were too damn cold and snowy.

You wiped the sweat off your brow as you stood. Glancing back to the camp, just as you had a hundred times before, you noticed a tall figure heading your way. Josh. Figured. A sigh escaped your mouth before you could help it. But either Josh didn't hear or was too busy with his own thoughts. That's when you noticed his knife in his hand as he approached. The hairs on the back of your arm stood on edge, though you ignored it.

You peered over your shoulder, chewing your lip. “Roamers?”

Josh put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “No. Go into the forest.”

Shrugging him off you wrinkled your nose up at him. “Beg pardon?”

The sharp point of the knife poked your back. “Go into the forest, or I will make you.”

Your heart sank as you realize what Josh wanted. You'd never been that type of girl. Sure you'd had a few partners here and there, but nothing like what Josh wanted. So far you'd been able to avoid sleeping with him, but you didn't think you were going to be so lucky today. 

You went for your sword but his hand clamped over your elbow and he guided you towards the woods. More like dragged you as he yanked the sword from your belt and tossed it next to the forgotten blue bucket. You stared at it forlornly, still being pulled away. When your eyes fell back to the camp, you saw that everyone had busied themselves with other tasks. Assholes. Everyone knew what Josh liked to do, and everyone ignored it. Most of the women just put up with it for protection.

Hell, your first instinct was to submit and get it over with. But that wasn't who you were. You were mostly annoyed that Josh had ruined your alone time, and slightly pissed that he assumed he could just have you without even asking for your consent. Not that you would have said yes to him anyway. But he could have at least asked.

You dug your heels into the dirt. “No.”

Josh laughed and yanked you along anyway. “You don't get to fucking say no. Not today.”

You tried to dance from his grip, but he was so much bigger than you and he ended up picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. You began to yell and kick in vain, but Josh just went deeper and deeper into the forest.

“Keep yelling like that, sugar, and you'll attract every Roamer around. I might not protect you then.”

You pounded on his back and clawed at his shirt, but he was unfazed. Instead, he threw you down on the ground and flipped you over on your belly. Hell no. You tried to scramble away, but he jerked your pants around your knees, making it nearly impossible to crawl away. 

His hands slipped up your t-shirt and squeezed your breasts through your bra. Frantically you looked for something, anything you could use to smash this fucker over the head. There was no way he was getting inside of you. Not a chance in hell.

You finally found a rock that you were able to grab. Just as his mouth came down, hot and wet, on your neck you used your right hand to slam it into his skull. He jerked back, dropping you face first into the dirt. “You fucking bitch!”

You rolled onto your back and wriggled your pants back up around your hips as he swiped the blood gushing from him nose. A sick sense of satisfaction creeped into your mind and you tried not to smirk as you buttoned your pants up and shot to your feet. You had to make a break for it to get your sword. It looked like you would have to defend yourself after all. But you had to pass by him first. And when you did he tackled you and punched you right in the face. Your head snapped back and your cheek felt like fire. White light burst in your eye, temporarily blinding you. 

He pinned you to the ground and leaned over you. Flecks of saliva peppered your face as he hissed. “I'm going to fuck you bloody. And when I'm done, I'm going to leave you here, naked and alone. You'll either get fucked by the Saviors or the Roamers will get you. Either way, you're dead, bitch. Got anything to say?”

You hack the biggest wad of spit you can and lob it directly in his eye. “Go fuck yourself with a cactus.”

He snarled and swiped his eye with his wrist. “Now you're gonna pay you stupid whore.”

Josh held your wrists above your head with one hand as he ran his other hand over your body. You struggled and squirmed, but he was far stronger than you. He started to yank at your pants again. You could feel your heart pounding in your temples and the adrenaline rushing through your body.

You were about to attempt to knee him in the groin when he was lifted off you, by...well a fucking giant. Josh was easily the tallest person you knew. This man had several inches on Josh and was broad-shouldered. He was fucking huge. Even with his leather jacket on, you could tell he was well muscled. 

For a moment you couldn't comprehend what had just happened and all you could think of was why would anyone wear a leather jacket in this fucking heat?

The big man threw Josh into a nearby tree, breaking you out of your trance. You winced at the loud crack Josh made as he hit the tree. The subsequent thunk of the ground made your innards coil precariously in your belly. The big man's laughter echoed across the forest. “Boys, give me Lucille. She is fucking thirsty, and fuck if she isn't gonna drink her fill right the fuck now.”

That's when you realized there was a crowd of men with him. A sick feeling rolled into your stomach as you sat up. You hadn't realized it before, but your whole body trembled as you glanced from side to side, eyes sliding over the motley crew of mismatched, misshapen men. They had to be the Saviors. You wanted to run, to hide, to do anything but sit here and watch. But the rustling behind you hinted that you were completely surrounded.

One of the men stepped forward and handed over a baseball bat covered in barbed wire. You grimaced as you realized what exactly was going to happen to Josh. But you also felt a morbid satisfaction, knowing that Josh would never fuck with you again. And a twisted sense of relief.

The man caressed the handle of the baseball bat with his gloved hand. “So, it would seem to me that you were about to rape this woman? Is this fucking true, limpdick?”

Josh's large eyes shifted back and forth at a dizzying pace.

The man rolled his eyes and kicked Josh. “How bout an answer before we all grow fucking old?”

“N-n-no, sir.”

The man threw back his head and laughed a deep belly laugh. One that made your heart flutter. You suddenly felt warm and tingly all over, but you shook off the feeling when your gaze met the baseball bat again.

“I'm not a fucking sir. Fucking hell. Anyway, your camp back there...Well, lets just say all your shit is mine now.”

That's when you realized, this was the infamous Negan. The leader of the Saviors. You pressed your knuckles to your lips, trying to thwart your breakfast's reappearance. 

The stories you'd heard about him beating the holy hell out of people with his bat weren't the stuff of Frank's legends. 

“Now, normally I would choose someone at fucking random to feed Lucille, but considering the fact that you were about to shove your tiny fucking dick into that poor woman over there, I think you make a mighty fine candidate. What do you think?”

His gaze had turned to you, and your trance broke. You scanned over all the men in his camp, slowly, slowly. You were overwhelmed, fingers still against your lips as you nodded at Negan, staring at a point over his shoulder. What else could you have said? You were frightened....yet...a little intrigued too. 

He smiled, sending a thrill through your body as he played up his dimples. “The lady has...spoken.”

Even though you'd seen a thousand Roamers with their heads bashed in, you couldn't bear to watch someone you knew get clobbered to death. Though he may have deserved it and you wouldn't be particularly sad that he was gone, you had still known him since nearly the beginning of all the craziness. 

Instead you stared at your feet, listening to the sounds of the bat cracking across his skull, of him groaning, of the men around you chuckling nervously and of Negan whooping after each hit. 

Finally you saw a pair of boots enter your line of sight. Negan squatted down in front of you, his dark eyes searching your face, even as you turned your gaze away. A gloved hand tipped your head up by your chin and you stared into Negan's handsome, grinning face. He cupped your own face in his hand.

“Hi. I'm Negan. Who the fuck are you?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, your stomach rolling around in place. Your heart was thumping faster than it ever had before and every inch of your skin tingled. You felt puzzled and curious, unable to talk. That's when it hit you. Negan was exactly the thing you'd been missing all your life.


	2. Chapter 2

After a brief discussion Negan and his men decided they would take you back to their 'Sanctuary.' You had no idea what they were talking about, but you were pretty much open to anything at that point. Though living outside had never bothered you much before, the idea of a bed under a roof was practically orgasmic. You couldn't remember the last time you'd had a pillow or blankets.

Negan warned you that you would have to work for your supper. 

You half-smiled at him and shrugged one of your shoulders. “The least I could do, considering you saved me and are giving me a roof to live under. I'd be kind of an asshole not to work, now wouldn't I?”

Negan's lopsided grin widened. “Too fucking true, sweetheart.”

Again, you shrug at Negan, but this time you add a wink just for him and he laughed at you before turning back to his men.

“Let's go see what the rest of those fuckers have. Dwight, take her back to the truck.”

The man with the light brown hair and sour face nodded and put his hand on your shoulder, turning you towards the truck. As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder at Negan who was watching you with an appraising look in his dark brown eyes. 

His gaze crossed yours and he grinned at you. You playfully twitched your eyebrows in response and turned to follow Dwight to the rusty blue pick up. Opening the door, he gestured for you to climb into the cab. When you did, you gasped and moaned at the frigid air coming from the vent. 

Dwight shut the door behind you and sauntered off without another word. No matter, you were just going to bask in the luxury of the air conditioning.

You must have dozed because the next thing you felt was a hand shaking your shoulder. Jerking awake you blinked sleepily over at Dwight who motioned for you to slide over. Did he want you to drive? You stared confused for a moment before Negan himself climbed into the drivers seat. Oh, well of course. That left the middle seat...Only it wasn't exactly meant for sitting. You grimaced as you straddled the shifting gear. 

Beside you, Negan chuckled wickedly as he revved the engine. Of course, Negan insisted on driving. Though, each time he shifted the gear back into you, he was careful to keep his hand away from your crotch, instead, preferring to tease you, brushing his fingers over your inner thighs. Your cheeks were blooming into a nice rosy pink according to the rear view mirror. 

Aside from the failed attempt from Josh, it was the most action you'd seen in months. Or years, really. Steady boyfriends were hard to come by at the end of the world. 

Normally, you would have folded your hands demurely in your lap. However, with the heel of Negan's hand on your thigh, there was no where for you to put your hands. Unless you wanted to touch his of course. Somehow that seemed far more intimate than his hand on your thigh. So you settled for awkwardly hugging yourself around your middle, 

Negan glanced over at you. “You okay there, sweetheart?”

“I just need a cold shower. This is the most action I've seen in months,” you say dryly, making Negan laugh outright. 

Negan didn't take his eyes off the road, but you could see the lopsided smile on his face. “There's always more where that came from.”

You glance at him, your brows raised. His grin was infectious, making it hard to conceal the coy smile on your lips. It took everything you had to stifle the silly little giggle bubbling in your throat. Gosh, what the hell had gotten into you? You'd never been that giggly, swooning girl. Okay, maybe not like this and maybe only occasionally over an actor. 

But surely Negan got this all the time with his ruggedly handsome face. Was it his dark, glittery eyes? Or maybe the salt and pepper sprinkled beard. Or perhaps even the dimples. No, what truly captivated you was his mere presence. Negan was a man who knew exactly who he was, where he belonged and he expected you to know it too. The combination of his swagger, his charm and his penchant for the word fuck made him even sexier. Add in the fact that his hand was between your legs and well...after you found a bed, you were probably going to have a slightly busy night.

You gasped softly as Negan shifted one more time, this time directly into your core. His lips twitched but he kept his eyes on the road and his hand just above your pubic bone, his fingers and thumb skimming the insides of your thighs. If you shifted just an inch either way, he'd practically be fingering you. Something about his demeanor told you that he planned it that way.

You knew your cheeks just had to be red, half from embarrassment and half from arousal. The gear shift vibrated exactly in the right spot. You hadn't been lying to Negan when you said you needed a cold shower. Hell, your cheek was close to bleeding from you biting down on it to keep from whimpering as you practiced your self control. If Dwight hadn't been there, you might have rubbed yourself wantonly against the shift, just to get Negan to fuck you. Because why not? 

Suddenly, Dwight felt like a third, unwelcome wheel. You sneaked a glance at him, but he was too busy staring out the window with his leg bobbing up and down. He seemed nervous, twitchy even, but you couldn't tell why. But then again, it wasn't your problem. Negan completely ignored him.

You licked your lips and curled your toes painfully in the too small dark brown boots. Panting was not an option either, otherwise you'd give yourself away. But Negan seemed to realize that you were in a state and he rubbed his tongue across his lower lip, sending even more electrical waves down south. It took every fiber in your body to resist moaning. All you could imagine was that tongue sliding along your---

“---home sweet fucking home.”

Already?

“Finally,” Dwight muttered. “Tired of being out there in the shittiness.”

Negan snorted. “You got somewhere better to be, dickwad?”

“Not really.”

“Didn't fucking think so. Stop fucking whining, you sound like a little girl.”

Dwight glared, but Negan was too busy downshifting, fingers running over your thigh again. Now that the vibration was gone your head became less clouded with arousal and more hazed with discontent. You sighed and he snickered so softly only you could hear it, making your cheeks flush even hotter. Jesus what had gotten into you? Well, nothing lately, but...still.

Negan jerked the parking brake and disappointingly put the truck into neutral. His hand slid over your thigh, squeezing briefly before he popped open the door and left you. He started to yell towards the other men, but you weren't really paying attention. Instead, you were wondering if you could touch yourself without being caught. But Negan stood there next to the door and Dwight was unloading the truck. When the hell had he gotten out? 

Then, Negan turned to you, brows raised. “You getting the fuck out? Or do you need some...assistance?”

For a moment you studied his dark eyes and then you gave him your best cheeky smile. “I could always use some assistance.”

His teeth gleamed and he offered his hand to you so you glided across the leather seat and slipped your small hand into his big, calloused paw. His grasping hand was warm and secure and it made your stupid pounding heart skip a beat. He grabbed your waist with his other hand and pulled you against his body. You scowled at him, playfully of course, as you swung your feet over the edge of the seat.

His strong grip held you against the wall of muscles that made up his chest before he let you slide down the front of his body, along the hardness of his stomach and well the hardness of other things...Very large, noticeable hardness. No wonder he was hanging out behind the truck door. 

You realized you were still holding his hand and you flinched, dropping it suddenly afraid you were going to press it to you aching breasts or even lower. 

Again you licked your lips. “Thanks.”

His dark eyes flicked downward, pupils dilating even in the bright sunlight. Your stomach rumbled and jumped, and you almost took a step backwards.

He leaned down and his breath tickled your ear. “It's my....pleasure.”

A shiver rippled up your spine. “Oh no, it's mine, babe.”

He chuckled. “I want something from you.”

Though the vibration was long gone, it's memories hadn't faded and his words only increased the fire within. You stare up at his confident grin and your stomach continued flipping. But you didn't want to give yourself away. Not yet.

You purse your lips playfully, twirling a loose strand of hair around your index finger, surprising yourself with the extra burst of flirtatiousness in your voice. “What is it that you want, Negan?”

He leans down, his gloved fingertips brushing your jawbone, making your breath hiss inwards. “You.”

A smile teased your lips as you tilted your head to the side, away from his as you tried to control your breathing. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his fingers traced down the side of your neck and back to the base of your skull, where they buried themselves in your hair. You swallowed roughly against the pounding of your heart. “I want you to be my wife.”


	3. Chapter 3

You giggle at the sincerity on Negan's face. “Wife? We only just met.”

Negan grinned, undisturbed by your laughter as he tucked the stray lock of hair you had just been playing with behind your ear. “Sure, but you're smart and fucking sexy. You know, there are a lot of benefits from being my wife.”

You lean back against the blue truck, one brow raised, a twist smile on your lips. Oh, you were interested, but it was positively ridiculous to think that Negan wanted to marry you an hour after meeting with you. His hand was still entwined in your hair as his dark eyes searched your own.

His tongue dragged along his bottom lip, and you imagined it was your own for a split second. Negan must have noticed something in your eyes for he leaned forward, his breath tickling your cheek. “No more cold fucking showers.”

You grinned up at him, equally playful. “Cold fucking showers are the best. They remind me that I'm just getting started.”

You didn't think his gaze could get any more heady. But it did, making you dizzy and lustful.

And then it all came spinning back to earth.

“None of my wives have to work for their fucking supper. As long as they show---”

You hold up your hand to silence him, your entire body having gone cold at the mention of 'wives.' 

“So, you mean to tell me you have more than one wife? You just want to add me to your collection.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “It's an honor to be with me.”

You laugh again, only this time it's a harsh barking laugh that makes Negan's good humor disappear completely.

He held up his hands. “Your loss, sweetheart. But if you change your fucking mind. I'll be here. Dwight, get your ass over here.”

Negan turned and sauntered into the building without looking back. You couldn't help but feel like your world had darkened once more. There was something magnetic about Negan that drew you to him. Which seemed ridiculous because you'd only known him an hour. It seemed like you and Negan were on the same page when it came to inappropriate feelings.

Dwight began to drone on about protocol, but you weren't really listening as you followed him into the building. Your mind still focused on Negan and his fucking kissable lips, his gravelly voice and his over the top personality. And you couldn't help but wonder if the latter was all for show. If he was just like you, hiding himself away under a mask. 

Up the stairs, around the corner, through the factory floor, up more stairs, down more stairs. Oh god, this place was a maze and you'd be lucky to find anything.

As you followed Dwight, you couldn't help noticing the people around you. Working, cleaning, huddled together and whispering. There were kids running around, laughing, weaving in and out of the throngs of people. Everyday, average people.

Your attention turned back to Dwight and his half burned face. You wanted to ask him what happened, but that would be terribly rude. He seemed a bit self conscious of it so you stared directly into his eyes, even the lidless one, to make him feel normal. 

On your left there was a row of doors all along the highway. Dwight opened one. “You can either bunk with a couple other girls or you can have this room.”

You glanced inside and instantly felt claustrophobic. The room was big enough for a bed and a desk, and no more. It wasn't as if you had many things but Jesus fuck. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You couldn't imagine sharing a room would be much better.

You smiled at Dwight. “This used to be a broom closet or something?”

He shrugged. “Supply.”

Well, if he wasn't one for talking you wouldn't force him. You knew the value of silence and being left alone. You turned back to look into the tiny room and sighed. Yeah, you couldn't pass up a little privacy.

“Gotcha, well,” you shrug and motion around the room. “I'll be happy to take it.”

Dwight nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow you'll report to the main floor first thing in the morning—7am—and your work detail will last until 7pm. Everyone starts at the bottom. You'll be on cleaning crew. If we find you have other skills we'll move you as necessary.”

He left you alone in your new room. You plopped your backpack down on the limp mattress, coughing as a cloud of dust rose all around you. Waving away the dust you began to unpack your meager belongings. Clothes, a few survival books, matches, two bottles of water, a comb, and some dried meat. You had nowhere to store your things so you just shoved everything under the bed.

You weren't sure what to do with your time so you curled up on the bed and dozed until someone pounded on the door. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you cracked the door, peering out at Dwight.

“Come on, dinner. First two meals are free, then you gotta work for points.”

Would Negan be there? You contemplate asking Dwight, but you had a feeling the two weren't on close terms, so of course you kept your mouth shut. As he led you through the factory, you tried to memorize the way, but ended up confused. All you knew is that your room was on the third floor, west wing, fourth door.

Dwight motioned you to a table and you sat on one of the cold, hard benches, watching the people around you. No one came near you, which was fine, for you were always content to people watch.

After dinner you wandered back to your room and fell asleep the instant your head touched the mattress, only to be awoken the next morning by a pounding on your door.

When you answer it, a very grumpy man with white hair is squinting at you. His name tag reads Derek.

“Yes?”

“It's six-thirty.”

You raise a brow. “I'm not supposed to report to anyone until seven.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you gotta get your uniform. On credit.”

Instead of arguing, you nod and follow him and his griping down the hall.

An hour later you're dressed in your credited uniform with a broom in hand. You liked the monotonous repetitive motions of the broom. You didn't have to think too hard and you could let your mind wander. Of course right then there was only one place it wandered to. Negan.

You got the sense most people were afraid of him. Though, you could see why, you weren't afraid. No you were turned on just thinking about what that tongue could do. Hell, all he had to do was brush your thigh yesterday and it nearly left you in a puddle of mush and goo. Sure, the vibrating truck helped some, but you didn't think it would have been nearly as erotic if it had been Dwight or someone else shifting gear.

Before all this you never really had a type. Now. Yeah, Negan was your type. Tall, broad and fucking oozing masculinity. Not only that, but full of vulgar humor. Which you partook of frequently, only in your head. 

A voice broke through your thoughts. “You missed a fucking spot.”

You looked up and before you could help yourself you smiled. “I did. Thank you.”

He wrapped large, thick fingers around the handle of the broom, stopping you in place. “You know, you're supposed to fucking bow when I come around.”

Again, your brows were dangerously close to your hairline. “Is that so?”

He tilted your chin upwards, his look dark and dangerous. “Yes, it fucking is.”

Though it was absurd, you took a step back and curtsied for him. Maybe with a bit more passive-aggressiveness than you meant, but it seemed to get your point across. When you glanced up, you were glad to see him grinning.

“You're a fucking smart-ass, you know that?”

“Yes, my Prince,” you grin back and snatch the broom from him. 

He laughed. “If you're going to fucking be like that, it's King Negan to you.”

You toss your head side to side. “Well, I've always thought of kings as old and wrinkly and ugly.”

He caught your flirty tone and stepped forward, making your heart race. “Is that so?”

You place a palm on his chest, partially to keep him from coming any close and partially to feel his massive chest. Underneath your fingers you felt the steady rhythm of his heart. 

His brown gaze met yours and you realize what's about to happen, even as he bends forward. 

Your eyes flutter closed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Having major writers block. Managed to sit down and plan out the majority of the story, so that shouldn't be too big of an issue anymore. Also, I realize the tenses keep changing. I'll fix it later. For now, comment, kudos, subscribe and bookmark!

All of your insides are twisting themselves into knots as you wait for his mouth to touch yours. Fuck, it'd been so long since you shared a kiss with anyone. The fact that the next one would be with Negan merely felt like a bonus. It took everything you had to keep still, to keep your hand steady on his chest, though you allowed your fingers to curl into his white t-shirt. Underneath your fingers you could feel his heart began to pump faster and faster.

You wished he would just hurry the fuck up.

“Fuckin gotcha,” Negan whispers, his breath purling over your face.

Your eyes snap open and you see him smirking down at you. Though you know you should feel offended, and perhaps if it hadn't been Negan, you would have. Instead you laugh and push your hand against the hard muscles of his chest.

He rocks back a little, chuckling wickedly as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You're no fucking fun.”

The butterflies in your tummy are beating their wings crazily and you flush, but smile anyway. It's so hard not to smile at Negan's devilishly boyish grin with those fucking dimples. It's enough to drive any woman crazy.

You snatch the broom from him and pretend to jab him in the belly with it. “I'm no fun? You're the tease.”

His dark eyes twinkle at you as he strokes the tip of a gloved finger over your lips. “Gotta build the fucking anticipation somehow, don't I?”

Your eyes flick back to his and you fight the urge to take his finger in your mouth to show him exactly what anticipation is. Though you suspect he would turn the tables on you. Not that it would be a bad thing per se, but you were definitely trying to keep it in your pants. For now.

You roll your eyes and turn back to sweeping, pretending to be disinterested, hiding the sense of arousal between your thighs. “Mmm.”

He comes up behind you and puts his massive hands on your shoulders. Your heart thumps in your chest and you find it difficult to swallow. Somewhere, the rational part of your brain screams lecher at you, but it's been so long and he's fucking sexy and huge and gives off an air of crackling energy that you just can't resist. 

“Remember,” he leans down so his lips brush against your ear. You do your best to repress the shudder that runs up your spine. “My fucking offer is still open, sexy.”

Sexy...you can't remember the last time someone called you that. Oh, how you'd love to give in. But you can't. Because you know that if you slept with Negan you both would end up hating each other. Because you want more than he would ever promise anyone.

Gently you pull yourself from his grasp and turn to him, smiling. “I appreciate the offer. I'm quite flattered but...I'm not exactly into netflix and chill.”

Negan blinks at you for a moment and then he throws his head back and laughs. “Fucking rich. Alright, alright, but you know....come...see me if you change your fucking mind. You know where the fuck I'll be.”

Of course he would put emphasis on the word come. Yes, Negan, that's exactly what you want isn't it? 

You watch his large, retreating back and shake your head. You wanted to call after him that no you didn't know where he would be, but by the time the thought crossed your mind he'd already disappeared to the other end of the factory.

A little downtrodden, you continue your work, shaking your head, wondering how your life could have changed so much in less than twenty-four hours. Before, there was just nasty Josh trying to get into your pants. Now, it was Negan trying. At least Negan was sexy and...well all man. You continue to sweep the floor until lunch time when Derek comes to grouse at you for being late.

You stare at him and shake your head, wondering how you could be late to lunch when no one even gave you instructions. His white hair sticks out in all directions, like Albert Einstein stuck his finger into an electrical socket. When he turns his back, you smile behind your hand and debate going back to your room. But your stomach growls so you quietly follow him and sit alone at a table, mindlessly eating whatever slop they'd put in front of you. 

Your eyes graze the room as you search for Negan. But he's not there. You smile to yourself. He probably thinks he's too good to sit with his peons. Though you wonder if that's really you trying to talk yourself out of liking him or if that's because Negan is larger than life. Probably a little bit of both.

As you eat, you watch the people mumbling to each other. Families, couples, friends. You feel like an outsider, though not for the first time in your life. But today...today was the first time it began to bother you, to make you jealous. Suddenly, you found yourself wishing you could be a part of the crowd, giggling and laughing. But you were merely stuck in your own head as you always were. You weren't quite the joining type, you'd never done it before. But then again, there had been a day where you'd never killed a Roamer before; where you'd never kissed a boy; where you'd never had a job. Surely this was easier compared to all that?

Just as you were working up the courage to change tables, someone plopped a tray across from you. Glancing up you realized it was Dwight. 

He sat down, as if you'd invited him and twitched a friendly brow at you. You nod back at him and continue to eat. Both of you sit in silence, seemingly content with each others quiet company. 

You rub your cheek absently. It still ached.

Dwight's eyes flick to you and you feel unnerved. The left side of his face was completely burned off, and his eye lacked a lid. But his expression is affable as he gestures to your cheek. “Should go to medical for that. They'll get you patched up.”

He pops more goop in his mouth. You try not to wrinkle your nose, but fail. He grins at you and scoops up more goop.

You shake your head and bite your lip. “Is it gonna cost points?”

Dwight purses his mouth. “Usually, but that jerk ass owes me a favor.”

“Oh, I couldn't--” you start to say, but Dwight waves you off. 

“It's nothing. Not like I want anything from him anyway. Plus, if I really need something, I'll just beat his ass in poker.”

You laugh softly, making Dwight grin back at you. The side of his face that was untouched lit up and he was...well he was handsome. Perhaps not as handsome a Negan, but still. You warm up at the idea of Dwight becoming your friend. And suddenly you feel like a five year old at the first day of school.

You look down at your tray. “Thank you, I...thank you.”

“It's nothing, promise...I feel like an ass, but what's your name again?”

You smile and tell him your name. He bobs his head at you, his eyes focusing on something behind you. Turning, you see a scantily clad woman with dark brown hair. She looks at Dwight and then at the floor. You turn back to him and open your mouth to ask who she is, but he cuts you off.

“Come on, let's get going.”

You frown and look at the clock on the wall. “Can it wait until seven? I have to finish work otherwise Derek might shit cotton.”

Dwight gives you a half smile. “Alright, we'll go after dinner.”


End file.
